Holding On to You
by Lina Cross
Summary: Two years after the war, and George still feels the pain like the Battle was yesterday. He doesn't even have the heart to leave his house anymore. But an old friend returns to the Burrow one evening and, for better or for worse, changes him once again.
1. Chapter 1

**I know, I know. I should be working on everything else. But I'm suffering some of the worst writer's block I've had in a while, and I'm going to take a break from even my addictive original story to do this. I already wrote fourteen chapters a while ago, so I decided to finally start posting. And I'm not sure if I'm ever going to finish It's and Art. So this will have to do.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters**

**. . .**

George sat in the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and sighed. Another weekly Weasley dinner was coming around, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. For weeks, he'd been going, if only to appease his mother, but now he felt like he couldn't even leave the house. Everywhere he turned there were empty rooms. He eventually decided to go, if only to escape the overwhelming vacancy.

**. . .**

When George Apperated on the front lawn of the Burrow, he was already regretting the decision to come. Flowers sprung up everywhere, the sun was shining, and everything was extremely colorful. It was absolutely awful and every part of him screamed to go home.

_You are home, git._ He thought to himself. _If you're not going to talk to anyone, the least you can do is show up_.

There was a crack very close to him, and suddenly he was getting pushed out of the way. "Oof! Sorry," someone apologized. He turned and his face registered surprise for only a moment before returning to its sullen state. He knew the brown-haired girl behind him, but he hadn't seen her in a very long time.

"_Can I have your autograph?" said the young second year standing before the twins._

"_Why on Earth would you want our autograph?" George had asked._

"_Because we're the most fabulous third years in this school, Georgie." Fred had said confidently, whipping out a quill and taking the girl's notebook. "What's your name?"_

"_Annabelle Lee Chittering." she said as though she'd rehearsed it many times._

"_Well, Annabelle Lee Chittering," Fred said, handing off the notebook so George could sign it. "Any particular reason you've taken an interest in us?"_

"_Because you're funny." she'd giggled. "And you're the smartest Beaters I've ever seen. Most of them are stupid."_

_George chuckled. "Can't argue with that, now, can we?"_

Annabelle Lee Chittering. Named so because her mother had liked Edgar Allen Poe's poem called 'Annabelle Lee'. She'd been a year younger than the twins, and had followed them like a shadow through the years. She had been deeply involved in many of their pranks, and had even caught Fred's eye.

_George smirked at his twin as he stared, mouth agape, at Annabelle in her flowing lavender dress robes. "You going to dance with her, or what?" he asked, nudging him playfully._

"_When did she get so damn pretty, eh? She used to be so scrawny."_

"You_ asked her to the ball, mate. You're the one who knows that answer."_

The last time George saw Annabelle Lee Chittering had been at Fred's funeral, still sporting wounds from the battle. She hadn't shown up to any Weasley dinners, despite the many invitations Mrs. Weasley had sent. Perhaps his mum had finally gotten through to her.

"Oh, hi, George." she said awkwardly. "Seems we had the same idea for where to Apperate, eh?"

He grunted in answer, then turned to enter the house.

"Right." Annabelle mumbled behind him, waiting a moment before following.

"Annabelle!" Mrs. Weasley cried, throwing her arms around the brown-haired girl. "Oh, I'm _so_ glad you came! We haven't seen you in such a long time! I was wondering if you'd ever show up!"

"Oh, you know, I've been traveling." Annabelle said, pulling herself from the woman's grasp. George couldn't help but notice how she seemed very eager to not be touched, and how her smiles never reached her eyes. Something about that bothered him. She'd always been full of smiles, and her green eyes had always sparkled so brightly, no matter what. Now, there was none of that old energy.

_At least she's pretending_. Said an accusing voice in the back of his mind. _For their sake_.

He ignored the voice and instead, took a seat in the living room, where Ginny was amusingly trying to teach Harry how to braid hair. "Hi, George." he said pleasantly.

George simply nodded, staring into the fire. Deep down, he was glad he'd come today. Annabelle had been one of his good friends at Hogwarts. He'd thought, after Fred's funeral, that she'd be gone from his life. But now she was back, and there was an unexpected relief that came with that.

**. . .**

Annabelle glanced at George from across the room. It hurt a little to see someone who looked exactly like her dead boyfriend, but it hurt even more to see just how dead _he_ was. There was no light in his face, no mischief in his eyes. He didn't even talk. She'd said hi to him for the first time in two years, and all he'd done was make some noncommittal noise. Maybe someone was hurting worse about this than she was.

She doubted it. She figured the only difference between her and George at this point was that she had learned to hide her pain better. She hadn't constantly been surrounded by friends and family who understood her aching heart. She'd been traveling, and while the people she'd been with understood that something had happened to her, they'd never asked because it had never been a problem.

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called, setting the last dish on the table.

**. . .**

"Annabelle," Bill said, patting her should as she sat down beside him. "Long time no see, how have you been?"

"Okay." she said. "I visited Charlie for a while when I was in Romania. He says hi."

"Oh, really? How's he doing?"

George took his seat beside Annabelle. Now that he was so close, he could see other details he'd missed before. Her hair was darker than it used to be, though if that was because she changed it or a completely different reason, he didn't know. There were worry lines on her forehead where there should have been none, and her smiles seemed a little tight. There was a scar running down her jaw from a Death Eater kicking her in the face that was healing nicely, but no other wounds from the battle were apparent.

"Oi! _George_!"

He snapped out of his reverie to see Ron snapping his fingers at him across the table. "Quit ogling her beauty and pass me the stew!"

Annabelle stopped mid-sentence, turning red as George turned crimson, passing his brother the stew. Hermione hit Ron on the shoulder. "Stop embarrassing him!"

"Oh, everyone needs to be embarrassed once in a while. _That_ is a lesson George taught _me_." Ron said in a matter-of-fact tone.

George didn't even bother to roll his eyes. He just returned to eating, hoping his blush was receding. At this point, it was all he could do to stay with his family and not walk out of the house and Disapperate. His empty flat was calling him, where it was quiet and he could be alone with his thoughts.

**. . .**

Annabelle was catching up with Harry and Ron when she saw George leaving from the corner of her eye. She hurriedly excused herself and jogged after him. "George? George!"

He paused at the edge of the yard and turned to look at her. "Hey," she said, pulling something out of her jeans pocket. "Erm, I picked up something for you while I was traveling. Here." She handed him a pendant on the end of a cord. The pendant was a turtle hand-carved from wood, and she'd picked it up while passing through India.

Then his face changed. His features hadn't changed but twice since she'd seen him today, and both times it had only been fleeting. This time, he stared at the pendant in confusion. "A turtle?" he said, holding it up. "You saw a turtle and thought of me?"

He could have found this funny, but she didn't know. "Erm... yeah. Do you not like it?"

"No, it's nice... Erm, thanks." he said, shoving it into his pocket.

He turned to leave when Annabelle hesitantly caught his shoulder. "George?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"It was really good to see you again."

He nodded, then stepped out of her grasp and Disapperated.


	2. Chapter 2

When George got home, he dropped his jacket over a chair and fished the necklace out of his pocket. He shouldn't have been surprised she thought of him while traveling. They'd been close, but not quite so close as she had been with Fred. He blinked at the pendant, then an odd sound escaped his throat. It could have been construed as a laugh.

A turtle. A _turtle_? Of all the things she could have found, be it wolf or bear or any other more masculine animal, she'd given him a turtle. He shook his head. She'd always been sweeter on Fred, anyway. Had she been moved to get his twin a gift, he didn't doubt it would be anything less than a lion.

He shook his head and placed the necklace on the table, retreating to his room so he could change and go to bed.

**. . .**

Annabelle walked into her old house, hating every inch of it. It was too big, and she hadn't lived there in so long that it was drafty, dusty, and dank. Her luggage sat in a pile in her room, but she was too tired to unpack now. Instead, she fished her pajamas out of one suitcase, tracked down her toothbrush, and got herself ready for bed.

Seeing George had had unexpected effects on her. She had thought seeing her best friend would have been a fantastic reunion, but instead he was unwilling to talk to anyone. She'd been surprised to get the words out of him she did. Having dinner with the Weasleys had really opened her eyes to what was going on. She'd been traveling the world almost in an effort to flee England and all the terrible memories, but the others didn't have that opportunity. It had made her even more uncomfortable to find that something was very _wrong_ with the way things were going, and she had a feeling it had something to do with George's becoming a recluse.

Annabelle looked at a picture she kept with her at all times. It was of her, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan in front of the big oak tree by the lake at Hogwarts. It was the boy's sixth year and her fifth. George and Lee Jordan had their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling at the camera, while Fred hugged Annabelle from behind, squishing his cheek against hers. The people in the photo waved and laughed, sunlight shining all around them. She sighed, knowing she could never go back to that time, but also knowing that she could fix what was left.

**. . .**

Lee Jordan was working the shop when Annabelle walked in. "Annie?" he called, pushing through a crowd of second years who were staring at a display of fake wands. "When did you get back?"

"Just yesterday." she said, smiling at him. They looked at each other for a moment, then Lee gripped her in a big bear hug, lifting her off the floor. She laughed and he set her down. He could tell she was still mourning the loss of Fred by how her laugh sounded. It wasn't empty, just not as full as it once was.

"Does George know you're back?" he asked.

"Oh, he knows. I saw him at the Weasley dinner." she said. "Does he always talk..."

"Not at all?" Lee supplied. "Yeah. It's been bad, Annie. He doesn't even work in the shop anymore. Just stays in the back room inventing and crunching numbers."

Annabelle made a face. "Crunching numbers?"

"I told you it was bad."

"Is he back there now?"

Lee nodded, so she patted him on the back and leaped over the counter. She opened the door to the back room and poked her head in. "George?"

Inside was the most dull thing she'd ever seen. The room was lined with papers tacked to the walls, but they weren't designs and inventions like they once were. They were charts and numbers. The desk was piled with paper, there was one window, and one lamp on the desk. George looked up at her from a piece of parchment he was writing on, looking tired. "Annabelle?" he said, standing. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for a visit..." She trailed off, looking at the sad sight. "What _happened_?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking around.

"This is all so... so... _Percy_." she said disgustedly. "Next I'm going to find you doing a report on cauldron bottoms. What is this?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Did Lee let you back here? I'll cut his pay."

"No, I let myself back here." she said. "Oh, come on, George, look at you! Your best friend you haven't seen in forever shows up at your door and you don't even invite her in? Your mum definitely taught you better manners."

He turned away and muttered something that sounded a lot like, "I lost my best friend."

Her heart sank, but she pressed on. "Come on, Georgie, let's see what's behind door number one!" she said, putting as much energy as she possibly could into her voice. She was trying harder than ever to act like she was okay, and she wondered how long it would last. Taking George's arm, she pulled him to the door that lead upstairs and walked him up to the flat. "Now, let's see, I bet I'm going to find where all the creativity got off to. There's probably Skiving Snackboxes all over and broken fake wands and-" She stopped when she opened the door.

The place was a mess, to say the least. Dirty dishes were piled in the kitchen sink, jackets, books, and papers were strewn about, and none of the pillows were actually on the couch. "George..."

"_That's_ why I didn't invite you in." he said, pointlessly gathering a spread of papers into a stack on the table. It helped nothing.

"George, mate, you have _got_ to get yourself a girlfriend." she breathed, gazing around at the mess.

He glared at her. "Annie, I didn't invite you."

"Correct. I invited myself." she said, taking a few steps further into the flat. "Does Lee know about this?"

"Annie-"

"Does Lee know?" she asked, turning to look at him.

He sighed. "No, Annie. He doesn't."

Annabelle nodded. "I thought so. Well, there's a lot to be done, and you have work to do. Go on back to your office and I'll get started."

"Wait, what?" he said, blinking at her. "No, Annie, you're not my maid."

"It's not like I have anything else to do." she said, looking around. "I only got back yesterday, so I don't have a job. Just think of this as me paying you back that time third year when you reversed Malfoy's Skin Rash hex."

"That was fourth year."

"Not for me it wasn't."

The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "The only reason I reversed it was because Fred was too busy beating Malfoy senseless."

"I do remember."

The momentary amusement vanished from his face. "Annie, I can't ask you to clean my apartment."

She nodded, already running water in the sink so she could wash the dishes. "That's right. You didn't ask me. I'm just repaying a favor, then I'll get out of your hair, alright?"

His social quota having been filled for the day, George merely sighed and waved a hand. "Fine. I'll be back at around seven. There's food in... places, if you get hungry." he said, looking at the boxes of crisps and other things scattered about the flat. Annabelle was right; this was awful.

"Don't you worry your gingery little head. Go on and get back to doing whatever it is you do." she said, not even looking at him as she washed the dishes. He shrugged and turned back to the stairs, heading into his office.


	3. Chapter 3

The second George walked out of the room, Annabelle dropped the dish she was washing and leaned back against the sink, staring around the flat. George was one of her very best friends. But he was no longer George. He was something else, something bad, and she didn't like it. Maybe, once she cleaned the place up a bit and he found someone still cared about him, he'd wake up a little.

She couldn't stand it. No matter what she did or said, she couldn't make him laugh. Back in second year when she first met the boys, that was all she ever wanted to do. She wanted to make them laugh like they made others laugh. She'd been ecstatic when she found out it wasn't that hard. But now, after all that had happened, she could hardly get George to crack a smile.

Sighing, she turned back to her dishes, trying to focus more on the task at hand rather than the problems she was having.

**. . .**

"We're gonna close up, boss." Lee said, poking his head into the back room.

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Lee, I told you not to call me boss."

Lee ignored him. "Hey, Annie came back here a while ago, but I never saw her leave."

"Yeah, she's upstairs."

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning." he said exasperatedly. "She refused to leave until the place was spotless."

"Ah, well, maybe the place does need a woman's touch." Lee said with a wink.

"Don't do that," George said tiredly. "She's Fred's girl. I can't..."

"Yeah, okay. Do what you want." Lee said, backing out of the room. "Night, George."

"Night." He slumped in his chair, then figured he might as well see the progress Annabelle had made. Checking his watch, he saw it was well past seven, and the thought entered his mind that she might be cross with him for being late. He gathered up his things, switched off the lamp, and slowly trudged up the stairs. When he reached the flat, he blinked in surprise. The dishes had been washed, dried, and put away. The table could actually be seen, now that the papers had been cleared off. The various jackets and containers of food had vanished, no doubt either in the garbage or put away. The cushions were back on the couch, joined by a sleeping Annabelle. On the floor beside her was an overnight bag; she must have left during the day to retrieve things from her house.

"What do you know?" he muttered, looking around. The surfaces still needed dusting, the floor needed a good sweeping, and various other chores still needed to be done, but there was a massive difference now that all the odds and ends had been put away. Picking up one of the freshly-folded blankets, George draped it over Annabelle, making sure even her feet were covered. Then he went into his own room, which hadn't been touched yet, and prepared for bed.

**. . .**

George woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned, shut it off, then climbed out of bed. He gathered his clothes for the day, then walked out of the room. His intention was to enter the bathroom and take a shower, but he found himself suddenly getting sidetracked.

"Oh! Oh, no..." said a crimson Annabelle, standing before him dripping wet and clad only in a towel. "Oh, dear."

He had to blink a few times to get over his shock, and when he did, he realized she was looking in every direction but his. This, he found out, was because he was clad in only a pair of checked knickers. "Annabelle," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you naked?"

"I t-took a shower." she stammered. "Left my change of clothes in my bag."

He sighed. "Okay. I'm going to be in the bathroom. You can change in my room."

"Thanks." she squeaked, darting off to find her bag. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head vigorously, desperately trying to rid himself of the thoughts that were cropping up. "Um, Annabelle?" he called, not turning around. He heard her squeak, then heard the door to his room slam shut.

"Yes?" she called.

"Are you cleaning again today?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "Alright. I'll be down in my office. Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay!"

He entered the shower, unable to count how many times he'd exasperatedly shaken his head since Annabelle had arrived. She was almost exactly as he had remembered; tiny, mouthy, and fun. But right now, she was only two thirds of that.

_Better than you. You're nothing like what you used to be._

I'm doing all I can to cope.

_And yet, she's still doing better_.

Feeling like he was losing an argument with himself, he leaned his head against the tile wall, making a louder thunk than he intended. There was a pause, then, "You okay?" Annabelle called.

"I'm fine." he assured her, turning off the water. He quickly dried off and dressed, stepping out to see Annabelle had already started in on the dusting. He walked by in silence, reaching the stairs and heading down to his office to another tedious, miserable day of work.

Work. That was what he called it now. Before, it wasn't work. Now that he'd lost his spark, it was. He was always tired, always wanting to do _something_ but never quite knowing what, and so he was also frustrated. He imagined that if he'd started cleaning in the first place, he might not feel as though nothing was being done. But Annabelle had that covered, so back to work it was.

**. . .**

When George reentered his flat at seven o' clock that evening, he promptly dropped what he was holding and stared.

"Hello, Geor-"

"_What in the name of Merlin's baggiest Y-fronts are you doing_?"

"Moving in." Annabelle said frostily, hands on her hips. Her baggage had been stacked neatly next to the fireplace, and George was quite certain he did not want it there.

"You didn't ask!"

"Because you would have said no." she answered.

"So why did you do it?"

"You need someone taking care of you, George." she sighed. "I had to pick up groceries for you today because all you had was milk, some cheese, a lot of takeaway, and some spoiled yogurt."

"I was meaning to go-"

"_When_?" she begged. "Look around here, George! Look at _you_! Everything is _wrong_!"

"So you're moving in with me?" he demanded. "_That's_ how you're going to fix this?"

"Your mum thought it was a pretty good idea."

He gritted his teeth, raising an accusing finger, but no words came out. His hand pulled at his hair as he thought about the choicest words for this particular situation. His mum knew. Now he _couldn't_ throw Annabelle out. And a small part of him wondered why he would want to. "Where are you sleeping, then?" he asked testily.

"I was going to let you decide, since this is _your_ flat." she retorted. "I'll sleep on the couch until then."

He shook his head. "Fine. I don't care." he said, gathering the things he dropped and retreating to his room.

Annabelle watched him go. Secretly, she'd enjoyed that argument a lot. There was actual emotion on his face, something that hadn't been there in a while. She smiled to herself as she got dressed for bed, thinking maybe she could do this after all.

So long as she didn't think too hard about Fred.

**. . .**

**Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay, I wasn't lying when I said I already had the first fourteen chapters written up. However, I've been without internet for the past couple of days, which is why I haven't been posting. It's back on, though, so not to worry!**


	4. Chapter 4

On the sixth day in a row of Annabelle's cleaning crusade, George had calmed down a bit. Annabelle was actually very pleasant company with how little they interacted, and she was a fabulous housemate. With how many hours George put in at work, he didn't have the time to do the shopping, cleaning, and general housekeeping. He was able to join her for dinner; they would eat quietly, and then retreat to their respective sleeping areas. She was still on the couch, as George hadn't yet decided what to do. He told himself he'd think on it later, when he had the time, but he knew he was only prolonging the inevitable.

When he went upstairs after tidying his office, it was the open door that caught his attention. Fred's door. It was always closed because he wouldn't go in there, so that must mean Annabelle was invading the space. Instantly, he ran to the room to find her standing with her back to him.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, taking her shoulder and turning her towards him. She looked surprised to see him, eyes watering and lip trembling. His irritation vanished as he looked at her. "An... Annie?"

She blinked, and suddenly tears were pouring down her face. She couldn't speak, and George didn't want her to. He had thought she was stronger than him. He'd thought she'd learned to deal with Fred's death. Now, seeing her break down like this, he didn't know what to think. How long had she been putting on a brave face for him? How long had he been buying it?

She collapsed in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "We can't keep living like this, George." she said stuffily. "Sooner or later, it's going to kill us both."

He sat down next to her. "Then no more hiding." he said. "I can't help you if I don't know anything's wrong."

"Well, maybe you would, if you dared to come out of your room for five minutes that you don't _have_ to be out here." she said angrily.

"I work-"

"No, you stay in your back room waiting to die." she corrected. "No more hiding."

His mouth tightened for a moment, then he nodded. "Fine."

Suddenly, she stood, wiping her tears away. "So, if we want to even _pretend_ that we're going to be okay, we need to start dealing with this." She stared hard around the room. "Starting with this."

"Annie, I don't know..." he said, standing with her. "I don't think I can-"

"Wasn't a question, Georgie." she said, heading into the mess. "You _are_ helping me, whether you like it or not."

And she meant it. George didn't like it, but she roped him into cleaning Fred's room for the rest of the day. First, they put everything where it belonged. Then they sorted through everything; what was useful to keep, what didn't need to be in the room but would still be kept, and (the hardest) what to throw away. There was a lot of moving furniture involved, as things were stuck in the corners of the room. The biggest surprise, however, came when they were almost done and were moving the dresser away from the wall.

"That... is not natural." Annabelle said, hands on her knees as they inspecting the neon-green blob on the floor. "You get to clean it up."

"Me? Why not you?" George demanded.

"Uhm, do you really expect me to touch that? Like, with my hands?" she asked, facing him. "No way."

"So what makes me so qualified?"

"You work in the shop." she pointed out. "You probably see stuff like this all the time."

"I have never seen this before in my life. And I could have gone the rest of my life without it, too." he said.

"You have stuff that could probably fix it, though!"

"You're the one who wants the room." he said, strolling out the door.

"No, oh, no, I am not cleaning... this... up..." She trailed off, turning back to the blob. Was it just her imagination, or was it... pulsing?

**. . .**

"What do you mean it won't come off?"

"It's clinging to the wall for dear life, George." Annabelle said as they walked up to the Burrow for Weasley dinner. "I swear to you, that thing is _alive_!"

"I don't see how it could be _alive_." he said.

"George, it moves when I'm not touching it!"

"Maybe we should keep it for a pet." he suggested.

She gagged. "A _pet_? A – oh, Merlin, that is the most _disgusting_ thing I've ever heard!"

"What?" he said, feigning confusion.

"A _pet_, George? That thing could be nuclear!"

"You don't know that."

"It's made of green unidentified gooey stuff!"

"Oh, come on. You'll like the idea when you get lonely in your room."

She stared at him, mouth agape and purposefully ignoring the fact that everyone was now looking at them. "E-ew! I just – Oh, Merlin, I need a shower just _thinking_ about it!"

"Annie, come on-"

"No. We are not on speaking terms right now." she said, turning away and crossing her arms.

"Annie!"

She stayed silent, looking pointedly away from him. He chuckled, then sighed. "Fine," he said, and she turned to look at him. "_I_ will clean up the mysterious blob."

She made a satisfied face. "Thank you." Then, they paused. He had laughed. She had laughed. And it wasn't fake, it had been real, genuine laughter. They had been joking, just like old times. Suddenly, she became suspicious. He also had a glimmer of the mischief back in his eyes. "Wait... do you promise?"

"I solemnly swear." he said, hand on his heart.

_I am up to no good_. he finished in his mind.

Now, however, they had to face the staring onlookers. Slowly, they turned, smiling awkwardly. "Erm... Hello, everyone." Annabelle said.

"George..." Bill said, stepping forward. "Are you... _smiling_?"

"Well... yes?" he said uncertainly.

"Oh, Georgie!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, gripping him into a tight hug. "Oh, I thought we'd lost you forever! But you're back!"

"Well, I won't be for long if my airways are being restricted." he gasped, and she released him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I'm just so happy!" she said joyfully.

"Hey, now maybe we can _enjoy_ dinner." Ron joked.

George spotted his brother Percy and had a sudden thought. "Hey, Percy, I think you should hear what Annie compared my office to the other day..."

"What did you do?" Ginny asked, standing next to Annabelle.

"Not much." she said.

Ginny looked at her. "You're the only one who's been able to make my brother laugh in two years. Don't tell me it was nothing."

Annabelle sighed. "Honestly, I didn't do much at all. I started cleaning his flat, then I made him clean Fred's old room with me. I think it was the blob that got him going again."

"What blob?"

Annabelle cringed. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

She sat next to George at dinner, but was unprepared for exactly how much everyone wanted to talk to him. Soon, she found his smiles becoming tight, his chatter lessening, and his laughter ebbing away. She knew how it was. He could only take so much before he was ready to crawl under a rock and hide again. She finished eating as quickly as she could, then stood up. "Thank you so much for the dinner, Molly." She pulled George up with her. "But we should really be getting home. There's a pest control problem that needs to be taken care of _tonight_." she said, pointedly walking away. "Bye, everyone!"

"Bye!" a few of them chorused back.

Once they reached the yard, George's shoulders slumped a little. "Thanks, Annie."

"It's a process." she said understandingly. "It's not something that happens overnight."

"You're helping it along damn quick, though." he said with a small chuckle. "Merlin, I thought I'd never laugh again. And you had me going today, and it just... it felt right."

"That's right." she said firmly. "No more of this 'wrong' nonsense. We're setting things straight one step at a time."

He smiled down at her, looking like a completely changed man from the one she saw for the first time in two years last Sunday. "You want this." she said quietly. "You _want_ to be happy. You just need a little push in the right direction."


	5. Chapter 5

George shot out of bed as he heard a scream coming from Fred's room. "What is it?" he asked, hand on the doorway as he looked around for the danger.

Annabelle was curled into a ball in dead center of the bed, staring in horror at something on the floor. He looked and leaped back before realizing it was just the green blob. Except now it had sprouted several skinny legs, was walking, and glowing in the dark. He began to laugh, finding the situation a bit ridiculous.

"Stop laughing!" Annabelle snapped. "It's not funny! I thought you said you took care of it!"

"Well, I did." he said, leaning against the frame as the blob strolled past him with the speed of a tortoise. "You mentioned something about it being alive, so I figured it could walk itself out."

"_In the middle of the night_?" she shrieked. "_Where I sleep_?"

"Oh, you're fine, Annie." he said, sitting on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. "Calm down, it's not going to hurt you."

"That wasn't funny." she mumbled.

"Actually, it was quite hilarious, but-" He stopped at a look from her. "Right. I'll just... burn it."

"I'm going to watch this time." she said icily, climbing out of the bed. His mouth twitch as she cautiously toed the floor like one would do if testing the water at a pool. Deciding the carpet was safe, she got off the bed and shrugged on her robe, but not before George caught a glimpse of her short, silk nightgown. He blinked, shaking the image from his mind as he stood and left the room. She followed him, mumbling obscenities as he retrieved some safety gloves so he could pick up the gooey thing.

"Come on," he said, heading for the door. "There's a rubbish bin out back. I don't think anyone will mind if we light it up."

As it turned out, Annabelle wasn't one to watch green gooey globs get set on fire. She turned away, looking as though she might be sick as the thing bubbled and hissed.

"There's a bin right there if you're going to throw up." George said, gesturing to the flaming can.

"Oh, that's awful." she said, hand over her mouth as she turned away.

His eyes softened as he looked at her. "I think it's dead now." he said, extinguishing the flames with a wave of his wand. "You okay?"

"You might want to stand back." she advised.

"Why?"

"The smell is making me want to vomit all over your slippers."

He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder, leading her back into the flat. She still looked a little green, so he gave her a glass of water and told her to lie back down. "Sorry about the... blob... thing." he apologized, guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're just lucky I'm not about to kill you." she muttered as she closed the door.

He sighed, too awake now to go back to bed. He sat on the couch and was about to pick out a book from the shelves when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. He tugged it out from under the coffee table and saw it was an old photograph. A fresh wave of pain washed over them as he recognized himself, Fred, Lee Jordan, and Annabelle standing in front of an oak tree. He remembered when this picture had been taken. It was right after exams; the sun had been out, the four had been fooling around, and little Colin Creevey had wanted a picture.

_You really loved her,_ he thought, looking at his twin's face as he kissed Annabelle's cheek. He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping the tears away as he put the photo to the side. He closed his eyes, trying to reseal the hole that had just blasted, again, through his heart. He liked to think of it as his own personal Dementor: As long as he could cling to a happy thought, he could keep his head above water. It had been getting harder and harder to find a happy thought lately.

From Fred's room, he heard Annabelle finally vomiting into a rubbish bin. The corner of his mouth quirked up. He didn't have to do this alone anymore. Turning the photograph so it was face down, he stood and went to check on Annabelle.

**. . .**

She wouldn't talk to him the next day. He was alright with that. He knew her silent treatments, and they never lasted long. She wasn't the type to stay mad. And, eventually, she had to start talking again when Harry and Ginny dropped by for a visit.

"You alright, Annie?" Ginny asked as Harry and George talked in the next room. "You look pale."

"Had a rough night." she said, sipping tea moodily.

"Oh, really?" Ginny said with a wink, leaning in the direction of George's voice.

"Ew, Ginny, no." Annabelle said. "Remember that blob I mentioned the other day?"

"The one you and George were fighting about?" she asked.

"Yeah. Well, when he said he'd 'take care of it', he really meant that he'd charm it so it could _walk_."

Ginny burst out laughing. "Oh, that must have been a sight!"

"_Not_ in the dead of night glowing in the dark!" Annabelle snapped, though she sounded amused. "And then he _burned_ it! Do you know what goo does when you burn it?"

"No."

"Pray you never do."

"So how is it going, anyway?" Ginny asked. "I mean, with George. He seemed a bit... I don't know, out of it towards the end of dinner on Sunday."

"You didn't really expect him to change overnight, did you?" Annabelle asked. "With all he's been through?"

"No," she sighed, looking towards the next room. "I did hope."

"You just need to have faith in him." she said. "It would mean the world if you showed him you know he can come back."

"How did you come to be so understanding?" Ginny asked, sipping her tea.

"I went through it." Annabelle said simply. "I mean, Fred and I were supposed to get married and do all sorts of stupid stuff with our lives. That's why I left." She stared at the dregs in her cup. "Traveling is a good way to get your heart back together, but until you can admit that you're really only running, you can't heal."

"That was pure poetry." Ginny said, reaching out and touching Annabelle's hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Annabelle was reading a book and sipping tea on the couch when she heard footsteps. She glanced up, then immediately hid her crimson face behind her book. "Merlin's whiskers!" she whispered, mortified. "_Pants_, George! For Merlin's sake, _pants_!"

"Will you give me a minute? They got burned off."

"Burned off?" she asked, debating whether or not she should put the book down. "You lit your trousers on fire?"

"It was an accident. I have more." he said, sounding muffled as he went into his room.

"What were you doing?" she asked, finally putting the book down and standing.

"There's this jinx I was working on a while back. It's supposed to make you cough soap bubbles for an hour, but I kept running into a problem."

"It lights your pants on fire?"

"Exactly." he said, stepping out of his room and tightening his belt.

Annabelle appraised him for a moment. When she first got back, George had dressed as you would think the man who handles numbers would dress; khaki pants, white shirts, generally boring and office-type clothes. But lately he'd been changing it up a bit. Today, it was jeans and a red shirt with a big yellow stripe. His color was returning, and it was as bad as she remembered. "Must you wear whatever clashes the most with your hair?" she asked.

"Yes, _Mum_, I do." he teased, heading back downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

"My office."

"I thought you were working on a jinx."

"I am."

Her mouth twitched. So he was inventing, too. She went to pour herself another cup of tea when there was a sound like a flock of birds taking wing and George's angered shout. She sighed, went into his room, pulled out another pair of jeans, and threw them down the stairs.

"Thank you!" he called.

"Welcome!"

**. . .**

Annabelle walked around the flat, deciding that, finally, the place was clean. She looked around for George, but when she didn't find him in his office or in the sitting room, she figured he was in his room. The door was shut, and the room beyond seemed to be dark. He was in one of his moods again. She shook her head and headed off to her room, determined to get him back to his old self.

George stared at the ceiling, lost in miserable thought. He knew why the jinx wasn't working; Fred wasn't there. Fred would have known exactly what to do to fix things. He'd only have had to set his trousers alight once before figuring it out. But George was lost. He didn't know how to complete a prank without his other half.

There was a knock at his door. He ignored it, preferring to sit in silence a while longer.

"George? Open up!" Annabelle called through the wood.

"Go away." he called.

"Oh, really, that's just childish." she huffed. "Come on, now, open up!"

He sighed, rolled off the bed, and opened the door. His eyebrows came together when he saw what she was wearing. Instead of jeans and a t-shirt, as was her usual, she had on a black and white skirt with sequins and an orange blouse that could have come from one of the countries she'd traveled to. Her long hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she was wearing jewelry.

"We're going out." she said, pushing her way into his room and heading to the closet.

"W-what?" he stammered.

"We are getting you out of the house." she said, flipping though his shirts.

"But I've been out-"

"Grocery stores and Weasley dinners don't count." she said as she threw a decent, mint-green button down at him. "Put that on. Hurry up." She went to leave the room, then stopped at the doorway and turned. "And if you don't, I have nothing against coming in here and dressing you myself."

He sighed, shaking his head as he pulled off his red shirt and slipped the green one on. Just to spite her, he decided to leave it un-tucked and rolled the sleeves up so he would appear even less formal. He stepped out of the room and spread his arms in an annoyed 'what do you think?' gesture.

She smiled, looking him up and down as she stepped forward. She reached up and tugged lightly on one of his long locks of red hair. "This could use a trim." she murmured. "It's getting long."

He didn't hear a word she said. He had just noticed that whenever Annabelle got within close proximity of him, his heart would do a weird stutter, making the rest of him feel tingly. _She's Fred's girl,_ he reminded himself forcefully. _Always will be_.

"Come on, then, let's go."

"Where are we going?" he grunted, able to talk now that she had walked away.

"You'll see. Come here." She took his arm, turned, and suddenly they were in the middle of a large park. It was very lovely, with clean walkways, gardens of flowers, and a snack stand in the corner. Near them, a stone fountain gushed water noisily and happily. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Farenstead Park." she said, still holding his arm and tugging him along as she walked. "I figured a nice walk would do you some good."

"I've never heard of this place." he said.

"Oh, it's a bit small, as parks go, so I'm sure you haven't."

"Wait a second," he said, listening to a few old men bicker as they played chess. "Are we in... Ireland?"

"Yes we are. I was here for a week last June, and that's how I found the park."

He looked at her, a confused smile on his face. "Where all did you go?"

"Oh, here and there..."

As they walked, she told him about her travels, surprised he hadn't asked before now. He seemed very interested in where she'd gone and what she did, and it took her until she was talking about Africa to understand he wanted to travel like that, too. He wanted to run, just as she had. Perhaps not quite so badly, as he was more enjoying the conversation than hungrily listening. But no matter what his reasons, she loved finally being able to tell her stories. And he was a fantastic listener.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?"

"Your voice got all weird when you said Spain." he observed. "Did something happen in Spain?"

"Something happened everywhere I went." she said evasively. "But... yes, I do have a story about Spain."

"Come on, then let's here it."

She was unable to keep from smiling as she recalled what had happened. "I had a few people I'd travel with on and off, like a rotation. This time, I was with a couple of boys named Jerrin and Chris, and a girl named Kansas. They were a fun group, always trying to make the locals freak out wherever they went – you'd like them. Anyway, Jerrin bought a rapier from one of the muggle shops – a rapier is a type of sword-"

"I know what a rapier is."

"Oh, good. Well, we found out that this particular rapier was enchanted so that, if one should lose it, it would always return to its sheath. Probably very useful in times when people actually used swords and things. The shopkeeper probably didn't even know what he had. Anyway, Chris got this splendid idea that every night he'd go out and sell the blade, and every morning Jerrin would wake up and it would still be there." She started laughing harder. "Of course, Kansas and I knew about it; we got a share of the profits. I don't think Jerrin ever suspected a thing though. We had to leave Barcelona real fast, though, because all the store owners started suspecting something."

George laughed with her. "That is something I would definitely – Hang on." He looked at her. "That could be a new idea for the shop. Do it with things like quills or purses. It's a damn useful idea."

"Look at you," she said, bumping him with her hip as she smiled. "All inventing and stuff again. What's gotten into you?"

"You." he said. Then he turned red. "N-not literally, I mean – oh, that came out wrong."

She made a face. "Only you would think of that, George."

"Well, you've just been really pushy, and it's the kick in the arse that I needed." he said, running a hand through the back of his hair. "That's all I was trying to say."

They continued walking and talking, and the sun was almost gone when she had him walking with her by the river. They were high above the water, leaning against the concrete barrier as they looked out at the skyline. "Thank you." George sighed. "You were right. I needed to get out of the apartment."

"What was that?" she said, putting a hand to her ear. "I think I misheard you."

He smiled. "I said, you were right!" he said louder, right to her ear.

"I thought that's what you said." she told him smugly, looking up at the stars. "Look, Venus is out tonight. I always thought it was a cool thing to see."

If George had the ability, he would have looked up to where her finger was pointing. But he could hardly tear his gaze away from her, bathed in starlight and looking prettier than he'd ever remembered. "It's beautiful." he agreed quietly, looking down at the water and shifting uncomfortably.

_Fred's girl, Fred's girl, Fred's girl..._

_Fred is gone_. said a small voice in his mind. _He's not going to come back for her. This is why you need to come to terms with this; so you don't feel guilty about whatever you're feeling._

"Are you hungry?" Annabelle suddenly asked. "I'm starving. Come on, I know this great place where they serve fantastic bangers and mash."

"Bangers and mash." he laughed, following her. "Really?"

"Oh, you'll love it. They season the hell out of it, and they have this great garlic butter they put in the potatoes, and..."

George smiled down at her, still not quite feeling right about his thoughts on Annabelle.

**. . .**

**So Annabelle was originally going to say, "This needs a trim. It's getting shaggy." But then I remembered what "shag" means in Britain. And then I thought all of you across the pond must have a laugh every time we Americans talk about shag carpeting.**

**Also, the sword thing? True Dungeons and Dragons story via my dad. **


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, Annie, I was wondering if you – Gah!"

"Oi!" she cried, whirling around and slamming the door in his face. "There's this thing, George, it's called _knocking_!"

"I – I, erm, yeah, that was, erm..." His hands ran nervously through his hair as his face turned cherry red. "Lesson learned." he said in a small voice.

He'd just walked in on Annabelle while she was changing and clad in nothing but a lacy violet bra and matching underwear. He took deep breaths trying to shake the feeling the image was giving him.

"Why are you up so early, anyway?" she asked.

"I was working on something." he said, averting his gaze even from the door. "Thought you could help me. I was... distracted."

"No kidding." she said, opening the door and giving him an irritated look. Now, she was wearing a rather modest outfit consisting of another colorful t-shirt and jeans, though this pair hugged her legs a little more than he was used to.

_Stop it! Stop it! You're not helping anything!_

"So... what did you need my help with?"

He snapped out of it. "Oh, I just needed you to help me with that Returning charm. I need you to tell me exactly what you observed when it worked."

"Oh, yeah, sure." she said, walking with him as he went to his office. He made sure she was behind him so he wouldn't have to watch her walk.

**. . .**

Another Weasley dinner rolled around, and George was thankful that this time the attention would be taken off of himself. Ginny and Harry announced that they were pregnant, to the cheers of Ginny's brothers and the tears of Mrs. Weasley.

"Congratulations, little sis." George said, enveloping her in a big bear hug. "Funny, I seem to remember your birthday quite recently passed-"

"George!" she exclaimed, hitting him in the arm.

"Just an observation." he said.

"Is this man bothering you?" Harry asked, hugging Ginny from behind. "Because if he is, I can take care of him for you."

"Please do!" she teased, sticking her tongue out at George.

The red-head laughed, putting his hand out to shake Harry's. "I always knew this day was coming. Figured it'd be a lot sooner, but still."

"And we couldn't be happier." he said, kissing his wife's cheek.

"Well, congratulations again." George said, backing away as Mrs. Weasley and Hermione pushed their way in.

"They're so adorable." Annabelle said, watching the two from where she stood.

"Yeah. I always hoped it'd be Harry, you know? Not Dean. Nope. Didn't like him at all." He flashed Annabelle a smile, then realized she was swaying on the spot. He wrapped an arm around her before she fell, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I – I'm fine." she said, rubbing her face with her hands. "Just didn't sleep well last night."

He knew this. He had heard crying coming from her room as he went to sleep, and he'd suspected a photo album had been involved. He was quite positive she hadn't actually slept at all last night. "Well, here, maybe if you eat something you'll feel better." he said, leading her over to the table and handing her a roll.

"Won't your mum get mad at me?" she asked, a smirk playing at her lips. He could have sworn she glanced over at Ron when she said it.

"I'm sure she won't mind if it means you won't pass out before dinner. Did you have anything to eat today?"

"I had a bit of toast and some yogurt." she said quietly.

His brow furrowed and he felt her forehead. Come to think of it, she did seem rather pale. "Are you feeling well?"

"Fine." she said. "Like I told you, I just didn't sleep well."

He didn't believe her, but decided not to press the subject. The family sat down to dinner, most of the girls conversing about the coming baby and most of the men conversing about embarrassing kid stories. George kept an eye on Annabelle the entire time, noticing that she took small portions of everything and ate even less.

"More peas, Annie, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, holding out the bowl.

"Oh, no thanks, Molly." she said, smiling sweetly.

"But you've hardly eaten a thing!"

"I had a rather big lunch." she said, making George choke a bit on his corn. He took a drink of pumpkin juice and cleared his throat, leaning back as he put an arm casually around Annabelle. "You just lied to my mother." he murmured.

"How else was I supposed to stop her campaign to fatten me up." she whispered.

"Fattening would do you some good, Annie, you're skin and bone." he admonished quietly.

"Oi, you two!" Bill called. "No whispering at the dinner table!"

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Ron asked cheekily.

"Ha ha, very funny." Annabelle said, making a face.

George watched as she suffered through the rest of dinner, seeming determined to act as though nothing was amiss. Having had enough of watching her force down another spoonful of potatoes, he decided to repay a favor she did him once before.

"Well, I'm rather tired." he said, stretching in his chair. "Annie, come on, I need you to help me clean up a few things before bed."

"Right. Just let me get my jacket." she said, standing with an air of a bird whose cage had just been opened. She darted off to find her jacket while George said his goodbyes, telling Ginny to keep Harry in line.

"Congratulations again, Ginny." Annabelle said. "See you next Sunday."

"Bye, everyone." George called, ushering her out the door. "You do realize you could have excused yourself at any time, right?" he asked as they walked down the lane.

"We only get to see them once a week." Annabelle said, pulling her jacket tighter as the temperature dropped.

"Only once a week." he said sarcastically, pulling her close to him. He turned and Apperated into the apartment, where she stumbled forward and promptly collapsed on the couch.

George hung up his jacket, picked up a blanket, and threw it over her. "Is there anything you need?" he asked.

"A bucket would be lovely."


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, George was kneeling next to the couch so he could feel Annabelle's forehead. "You're burning up." he informed her. "I think you might have the flu."

"Had to check for my temperature, did you?" she groaned. "The vomiting couldn't possibly be a sign that I'm sick, could it?"

"Okay, Little Miss Sarcasm." he said, getting to his feet. "Do you need anything?"

"Not much to do about it, is there?" she asked. "Just have to wait it out."

"I'm just wondering what brought this on." he said as he made himself breakfast. "You were completely fine the other day. Oh, hang on, I might have an idea." He grabbed a violet flashlight out of a cupboard and went into Annabelle's room, turning it on. "Merlin, she's so _clean_." he muttered, looking around at the spotless room. He shifted the dresser to the side and shined the flashlight on the floor. There were green splotches everywhere the light touched, invisible at any other time. "Yep, I found it." he called.

"What is it?"

"Residue from our blobby friend. Must have been rotting in here a while."

"Please stop, I'm on the verge of puking as it is."

His mouth twitched and he switched off the flashlight. "No problem, I've got something that can take care of it." He went into the bathroom, took out a container of _Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, _and began applying copious amounts wherever he saw the green spots. For the most part, he thought the situation was a little funny. But part of him didn't like the fact that Annabelle was lying on the couch feeling like hell because of it. For good measure, he made one last sweep of the room, then decided it was clean.

"Okay, I think it's safe to go in there, now." he said, sitting in an armchair next to the couch.

"Thank you." she muttered, seeming to be on the edge of sleep.

**. . .**

George shifted in his sleep, feeling a bit funny. Something was bothering him around his nose, so he reached a hand up to scratch it. He came in contact with something wet and sticky, then opened his eyes and screamed, leaping out of bed. His hand was covered in blood and, from the feel of it, so was his face. "No! No! Oh, my-" He stopped as he heard someone roaring with laughter. He turned to see Annabelle, rolling on the floor and clutching her sides as she cracked up.

"This isn't funny!" he snapped. "My face is gushing blood!"

Unable to speak, she simply threw a box at him. He caught it, then realized it was a pack of Nosebleed Nougats. He narrowed his eyes at her as he took the antidote candy. "You're supposed to be sick." he grumbled.

She sat up, having calmed down a bit. "I felt better." she said with a mischievous look.

"Mm hm, yeah, so you slipped me a Nosebleed Nougat, _while I was sleeping_?"

"Serves you right!" she retorted, getting to her feet. "After making the green blob walk through my room! You deserved it!"

He looked away and shook his head. Then he laughed. Then he kept laughing, looking at Annabelle. "I can't believe you got me." he said, reaching for a tissue so he could wipe his face off. "Bloody harpy."

She giggled. "So I managed to prank the master, eh?"

"Don't look so cocky. I used to get pranked all the time by Lee and... and Fred." He cleared his throat, proud that he'd hit a rough patch and managed to get through it in one piece. "And they got me while I was _awake_."

"Oh, I see." she said, stepping up to him and making goosebumps erupt on his arms. "I'm losing my touch, am I?"

"No, I didn't – ahem – I didn't say that." he said quickly, hoping she'd back off.

"Scared I'll prank you again?" she teased, thankfully flouncing back.

"Now why would I be scared of you?" he asked with a smirk. "Just you wait, Annabelle Lee Chittering. I'll get you for this."

"I highly doubt that." she said, thought there was slight fear in her eyes. "You wouldn't do anything to me."

"Uh, I have about five years worth of evidence that says I would." he said, grabbing some clothes from his dresser and exiting the room, sliding past her. "I'm off to shower."

**. . .**

For the next week, Annabelle was on her toes. She was always looking for things that might jump out at her or turn her into something unnatural. But, to her unending paranoia, nothing was happening. George seemed completely fine, like nothing was amiss, and that was driving her mad. When would he make his move?

Then came Saturday. She stepped out of the shower, cleared the fog away from the mirror, and didn't even bother to scream. Instead, she marched out of the bathroom, threw open George's door and glared at him.

The moment he saw her, he jumped back and cried, "Gah!" Then, when he realized who it was, he froze for a moment. His mouth twitched, and suddenly he burst out laughing.

"_Why is this funny_?" she shouted.

"W-w-why so blue?" he forced out, dropping to the floor.

"I swear, if I look like this for dinner tomorrow, you won't be able to have children." she threatened.

He sobered up, unconsciously throwing an arm across his legs. "Er, it should wash off next time you take a shower.

"What do you mean, _should_?"

"Will," he amended in a squeaky voice. "I meant will."

"I'll hold you to that." she said, pointing viciously at him before leaving to change.

George flopped back on the floor, slightly impressed that the little woman had managed to scare him like that.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Friday, and George had the flat to himself. Annabelle was off helping Ginny pick out baby clothes, so when he returned to the apartment after work, it was empty. He smiled in exasperation, hearing that she'd left the wireless on. She did that every now and again, but this time, with the place empty, he decided to leave it on. Taking a book off the shelf, he relaxed on the couch.

"_Hey, Jude... Don't make it bad... Take a sad song, and make it better..."_

He'd heard this song before. It was by a muggle band called The Beatles who all had awful hair.

"_Hey, Jude... Don't be afraid... You were made to go out and get her... The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better..."_

He shook his head, trying to shake an image of Annabelle from his mind as he forced himself to read his book.

"_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders... For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder..."_

This was ridiculous. It was a song. He shouldn't be listening to it as though it were giving him directions. He'd made his decision: Annabelle was Fred's girl, and he wouldn't change that.

"_Hey, Jude... Don't let me down... You have found her, now go and get her..."_

Now George could almost see Fred giving him an exasperated look. _"You've got a chance here, mate. Don't muck it up."_

He shook his head. No. Annabelle was his housemate. Nothing more.

"_You're bloody living together! For Merlin's sake, _go_!" _

The door opened, startling him. "I'm back." Annabelle called, kicking the door closed behind her and putting her shopping bags on the table. "Oh, did I leave the radio on? Sorry, I'll just-"

"No, it's fine." he said quickly, standing. _Now, George, go now!_ "Erm, I was actually wondering something."

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him curiously. "Yeah?"

_You look like a chihuahua. Stop shaking and give her a reason to say yes._ He leaned against the table, smirking at her. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with the fabulous me tonight."

She blinked, then snorted. "_Fabulous_? Alright, yeah. Where are we going?"

"Oh, put on something slinky. I'll figure it out." he suggested.

She laughed again. "Okay. Oh, I bought this new dress that'll be perfect..." She grabbed one of the bags and headed off to her room, George watching her go with a raging heart. It was slowly sinking in. She'd said yes.

"_Of course she said yes, dummy. You look just like me_. _Who could resist?"_

"_Naa na na nanana naaaa! Nanana naaaa! Hey, Jude!"_

Then it occurred to him that he was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He rushed into his room to change and reemerged sporting khaki pants, a blue-striped button-down, and dress shoes. Just as he walked out, so did Annabelle. All he could do was stare.

Somehow, in the ten minutes she'd been in her room, she'd magically transformed into a goddess. Her dark blue dress ended above her knees and was loose from the bust on down, though it still showed her shape. The neckline was lower than what she normally wore, and there was a satin ribbon just beneath her bust. She wore a silver necklace with several thick chains and a few sparkling charms, which did nothing to help him look away from her chest. She'd thrown on a bit of unnecessary make-up and let her hair down so it fell in soft, light waves down her back. Then he reached her legs. Had they always been that long? And the three-inch silver heels were not helping his case.

He swallowed. "Erm, wow, Annie... You clean up..."

"Good?" she supplied.

"_Fast_." he said in amazement. "It's like-"

"Magic." she finished with a falsely amazed expression. "Who'd have thought?"

He gave her a look. "Very funny."

She looked him up and down, then seemed to be trying to hide a smile. "You cut your hair." she said, trying not to laugh.

"Yes." he said, sounding insulted as he tugged on a strand. "Why? Does it look funny?"

"No, it looks great." she said, the laughter barely being contained. "I just... didn't think you cared."

"I care!" he said indignantly.

"Where are we going, George?" she sighed exasperatedly.

"You'll see." he said, taking her arm and Apperating out of the apartment.

Annabelle stumbled a bit, and George caught her. "Whoa, steady there." he chuckled. "Haven't got your sea legs yet, I see."

She blinked and looked around. They were on an oceanfront street with little shops and houses everywhere. There were party lights strung up along the road as though the place was eternally celebrating something, and every restaurant had party lights in it, too.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Just a little town by the sea." he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her into one of the restaurants. "Table for two, please." he requested.

"Certainly, sir. Right this way." said the maitre d, leading them to a small table in the middle of the room. There was a candle on the table providing soft light. The rest of the light was given off by Chinese lanterns strung up around the room.

"This place is beautiful." she murmured.

"I hadn't noticed." George said, looking at her.

She blushed as the maitre d set down menus and promised to send a server out for them. "Wow. I haven't been on a date in... Merlin knows how long." she said.

"Well, it's about time, then, eh?" he said, opening his menu. He snorted and put on a snooty voice as he looked at the entrees. "What would you like tonight, madame? We have lobster tortellini, baked tilapia sauteed with mushrooms, fresh coral flounder, and hand-breaded butterfly shrimp served with our home made cabbage salad."

She giggled, then immediately stopped when their waiter came up. "Hello, welcome to the Silver Oyster. What can I get you to drink?"

The two looked at each other, biting their lips to keep from laughing. The waiter spoke in the exact same voice George had been using moments ago. "Er, we'll have a bottle of the Chardonnay, please." he said, laughing as he said it and passing it off as a cough.

"Right away, sir."

They waited until he was gone, then burst out laughing. "What are the odds?" he said.

"He sounds like a butler." she insisted. "Like he should be taking my coat and telling me to sit like a lady."

"So what do you want, anyway?" he asked, returning to the menu. "There's a lot of good stuff here."

"Oh, I don't know, it all looks... expensive." she said, brow furrowing.

"Oh, don't worry about it." he assured her. "I haven't spent money on very much of anything in the last two years, so there's a lot saved up."

"But still-"

"Annie," he interrupted, putting a hand on hers. "It's a _date_. I'm paying for dinner whether you like it or not."

She made a face, but returned to looking at the menu.

"Your wine, sir." said the waiter, returning with the Chardonnay.

"Thank you." George said, mouth twitching slightly.

"Are you ready to order?"

They both nodded, so he took out his pen and a pad of paper. "I'll have the seafood scampi." George said.

"And I'll have the baked tilapia." Annabelle said, handing him her menu.

"Excellent choices." he said as he walked away.

**. . .**

It was eleven o' clock when the two stumbled out of the restaurant. Well, George supported a stumbling Annabelle as they walked down the street. "You can _not_ handle your liquor." he chuckled.

"I drank half the bottle by myself!" she laughed. "You can't hold that against me."

"No, no I can't." he agreed. "Besides, you're cute when you're tipsy."

"Hmm, thank you." she giggled, poking his nose in a very adorable fashion.

"Come on, let's go home." he said, turning and Apperating back to the apartment.

He helped Annabelle stumble to her room, but when she got to the door she turned and pressed her back against it. "Does this date end with a kiss?" she asked, gently tugging the front of his shirt.

He looked at her for a moment, her face glowing with happiness, the sparkle in her forest-green eyes, the genuine, care-free smile. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers. It wasn't deep, and it was fairly short, but it gave him a feeling like an electrical shock, and he was sure his hair was standing on end. She smiled up at him, then turned the knob and disappeared back into her room, leaving George to do a silent victory dance on his way to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the fifth Sunday since George and Annabelle officially started dating, and they'd gone on twelve dates. Things seemed to be getting serious at a quick pace between the two (not much of a surprise, as they already lived together), and the entire family was noticing. The biggest apparent change was the fact that George was almost exactly back to his old self. He was joking with everyone, teasing Ron, and pulling pranks on Percy just as he used to do. Annabelle had been thanked by various Weasleys for helping him be himself again, but she always told them that he just needed someone to push him around.

At the Burrow that evening, the boys had just finished playing a game of pre-dinner Quidditch. They were all high-fiving on the way back to the house, George's team having won the match. "It's 'cause we've got Harry!" he crowed, clapping the black-haired man on the back. "The king of Quidditch!"

"The only reason you got anything is because we had _Percy_." Bill teased, mussing up his younger brother's hair. Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny sat on the grass, laughing at them as they shoved each other.

"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!"

All cheering halted as the boys looked at the speaker. Annabelle stood before them, arms crossed and a very Mrs. Weasley-ish expression on her face. George gulped as Ron prodded him forward. "Erm... yes, dear?"

"You did not invite me to play." she said, but he could see amusement in her eyes. She was just starting trouble. Knowing he was not actually going to have anything important removed, he decided to have fun.

"Well, of course not." he said, chest swelling and voice deepening.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because it's a man's work."

A bark of laughter escaped her lips. "A _man's_ work? Bull-"

"See, look at how frail you are." He grabbed her around the waist and began tickling her, making her knees give out as she cracked up. "You fall at the slightest touch. And look at how skinny you are!" He held her arm up to the light. "You can almost see right through it! This calls for emergency feeding." He threw her over his shoulder, much to her shouts and protestations, carrying her towards the house. "Mum! Pull out all the stops! I've got a scrawny one for you!"

Hermione watched them go as Ron sat next to her. "Oh, that's just... just..."

"I'll tell you what that is," Bill said, pointing as Fleur handed him baby Victoire. "That's disgusting. No one should be that happy. Ever."

"Oh, Bill, you look like zat all ze time." Fleur admonished.

"That's right. Only I'm allowed to look like that." he said, making Ginny laugh.

"Well, I think it's adorable." she said as Harry gathered her into his arms. "Oh, Harry, no, get off! You smell like a rugby player!"

"Does it bother you?" he teased, hugging her closer. "How about this?" He kissed her deeply, pushing her over a little.

"Not in front of the brothers!" Charlie shouted as the other Weasleys made noises of indignation.

"Does it look like I care?" Ginny said. "No. Bugger off."

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called.

**. . .**

George didn't think he'd ever been at a happier Sunday dinner. _Everyone _was laughing, _everyone_ was joking, and everything just felt _right_.

"_No more of this 'wrong' nonsense."_ Annabelle had said. He smiled at her, knowing she'd fixed things just as she said she would.

"So when's it your turn?" Ginny suddenly asked, looking at Annabelle.

"Sorry?" she said in confusion.

"You know," Ginny continued. "When are we gonna get the news that George has gone and knocked you up?"

George, as it happened, was taking a deep swig of pumpkin juice at the time, and at Ginny's words he gasped, choking heavily on the drink. Annabelle quickly patted him on the back, waving her wand and clearing his airways as Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Harry scolded Ginny.

"Gin, come on." George coughed weakly. "We're not even married."

She shrugged. "What's marriage got to do with it? I'm sure you two are always-"

"WHO WANTS PIE?" Annabelle shouted, drowning out Ginny's words as her face turned crimson. Then, in a much squeakier voice. "I made apple. I'll just run and fetch it." She scampered off to the kitchen, leaving Ginny to look mildly offended and George to try and not laugh at his girlfriend.

"Does she do that often?" Charlie asked.

George looked up at him. "The pie thing? No. The squeaky thing? Yes. Especially when she's embarrassed. Her nose turns red first, it's rather adorable."

"How often do you embarrass her, George?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"I aim for twice a day. Sometimes I can get three good squeaks out of her if I'm really on top of my game." he said conversationally.

"Pie, anyone?" Annabelle asked, carrying two dishes in. "I hope I made enough for everyone."

"'Course you did," Charlie said, taking one of the pies from her. "I'll take this one, and everyone else can have the rest."

"Huh. Well that explains the belly I see you're getting." Bill teased. "What, have the dragons become docile out there in Romania?"

"Oh, stop it. Charlie, you're as fit as ever." Annabelle said, taking the pie from him and setting it on the table.

"You'd better keep this one around." he told George, patting her on the arm. "Cooks, cleans, tells me I look good. Where can I get one?"

"Hands off, Charlie. She's mine." George warned.

"Oh, will you all stop?" Ginny called. "Look at her. You're making her look like her face is on fire!"

"Alright, fine." George said, eating a piece of pie and looking at his girlfriend. "Annabelle, I'm disappointed. This is the worst pie I've ever eaten."

"I'm sorry, George, would you like me to make you another?" she asked sweetly, smiling at his antics.

He threw his napkin onto the table in mock anger, standing. "No I most certainly do not want you making another. You'll muck it all up again, it'll be terrible. We need to go home and teach you the proper way to cook desert. I'm sorry everyone." he apologized. "Next week's pie will be better, I promise. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go teach my girlfriend proper pie etiquette." He threw her over his shoulder again and carried her, laughing uproariously, out the door.

"You _always_ have to make a scene." she accused, smacking him lightly as he put her down.

"That's the only way to exit a room, love." he told her.

She laughed, bumping against him. "And your sister's mad. 'When's George gonna get you all knocked up? You're probably shagging like rabbits when no one's looking'. Merlin, at the _dinner_ table, too."

"Hormones. She'll blame it on hormones when Harry chastises her about it later."

She groaned happily, skipping alongside him. She stopped and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing him softly.

"What was that for?" he chuckled.

"I just love you." she said, a rosy glow coming to her cheeks.

He blinked. She'd never actually said she loved him before. Looking down at her, he knew he felt the same.

"I love you, too."


	11. Chapter 11

"Good morning." Annabelle said, seating herself on George's lap as he ate breakfast.

"Morning." George said distractedly, reading a book of charms.

She waited a moment, but when he didn't do anything else, she sighed. "I'm sorry, what I meant was, _Hello_, George, it's getting rather hot in here, so I might just take my clothes off."

"That's lovely."

"_George_!"

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his book.

"I just told you I was going to take off all my clothes."

He looked confused. "Why on Earth would you do that?"

She groaned as her head flopped onto his shoulder. "What are you doing?" she asked flatly, voice sounding muffled.

"Reading."

"Oh, quite avidly." she said, looking up at him. "What for?"

"It's a secret."

"Oi, rule one!" she said. "No more hiding!"

"This isn't for me, it's for Ron." he assured her. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. It just has to be a surprise."

"Then why are you allowed to know." she pouted.

"Because I'm helping him with it." he said calmly. "Just relax, Annie, I'm not betraying you or anything."

"Good." she said, kissing his cheek as she got up. "Well, keep your secrets, then. I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later."

"You're not even going to _try_ to find out what it is?" he asked.

She looked up from the kettle she was filling with water. "Hmm... It involves Ron, so... not that interesting."

"But it involves me." he pressed, standing so he could look at her.

"Still involves Ron." she teased.

"I'm sorry, Annie, but that's my brother you're talking about." he said, voice deepening an octave so she knew he wasn't serious. "I'll have to make you take it back."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Make me."

He sighed, as though resigned to what he was about to do. "Well... you asked for it." He grabbed her round the waist and carried her, squealing, over to the couch. There, he threw her down and began tickling her, ignoring her shouts of, "NO! NO! STOP! AHAHA!"

"George! GEORGE! Stop!" she laughed, shoving him off of her. "I can't breathe."

"That'll teach you to insult my brother." he said in a matter-of-fact tone, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

She looked at him for a moment, his kind blue eyes, the freckle explosion, the flaming red hair. He looked every bit like-

"So when are Ron and Hermione getting married?" she asked, trying to divert her train of thought.

"No idea." George said, leaning back on his arms. "It took that git seven years to finally kiss the girl, it'll probably take, I don't know, _ten_ for him to propose."

"Maybe we should help him."

"He'll hit you."

"No, really." she insisted. "I mean, it's obvious they're supposed to be together. I mean, look at Harry and Ginny..." She trailed off, making a face. "Oh, dear. I missed their wedding."

"Yeah, you did." he said quietly.

Annabelle sat up. "I don't even think I got an invitation."

"We didn't know where to find you." he said. "You were gone."

They sat in an uncomfortably long silence. Neither knew what to do or what to say. Then, George shook his head. "How could you leave?" he said accusingly. "We were all lost after the war. I _needed_ someone, and you just left."

"I had to." she said, sounding hurt. "There were things I had to take care of on my own."

"For two _years_?" he asked.

"I needed time, okay?" she said, rising to her feet.

"We _all_ needed time, Annie. But we didn't leave everyone behind. It was selfish."

"Selfish?" she exclaimed. "How dare you, George Weasley! I helped _you,_ remember! I pulled _you_ out of your self-imposed seclusion!"

"If I'm a recluse, then you're the same thing." he said, also now on his feet. "You _walked away_ from us, Annie! Like you didn't care!"

"I CARED!" she shouted. "I cared a _lot_! I cared so much that I was in mortal _agony_ after he died! I _had_ to leave!"

"If you had stayed, we would have helped you."

"You could barely help yourself!" she cried shrilly, tears springing to her eyes. "I did what I could, just like the rest of you!"

"No, you ran and hid! And then you came back acting like you were in the right, you did everything the way you were supposed to! Then you tried to change me, pushing me around until I did what you said, being a complete hypocrite the entire time!"

"I don't have to listen to this." she said, turning away.

"Then don't!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Then, with a crack, she Disapperated.


	12. Chapter 12

Annabelle kicked a rock on the wet street, head bowed against the pouring rain. Of all the ridiculous things... How long had he been keeping that to himself? What a load of rubbish, anyhow. She hadn't run away. She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! She couldn't possibly be so cowardly! And to think he'd had the nerve to even suggest such a thing.

Anger and hurt raged through her heart. She'd done what she could to help him, and he'd turned around and called her a hypocrite for it. She couldn't even see the reason. Everything had been going swimmingly, right up until they began talking about Harry's wedding. Then George had taken it upon himself to ruin absolutely everything.

She paused, looking into the window of Flourish and Blotts as the rain fell around her.

"_Well, if it isn't Annabelle Lee Chittering."_

_She turned and smiled broadly, spotting the Weasley twins grinning at her from behind a set of shelves. "Fred! George! When did you get here?"_

"_Last night. Harry's here, too. We're staying until the first of September." George answered._

"_Haven't even unpacked from the last trip yet, have we, Georgie?" Fred said, shoving his brother playfully._

"_That's right, I heard about your vacation in Egypt!" she said happily. "Good on your dad!"_

"_Honestly, it was rather dull." Fred told her._

"_Mum wouldn't even let us lock Percy in a tomb." George said dejectedly._

"_Merlin knows, he's stuffy enough to belong."_

"_I heard that!"_

_Annabelle snorted, seeing Percy's angry face over by another set of bookshelves. "I'm nearly finished here. We should go to Florian Fortesque's! I'm starving!"_

"_Ice cream for dinner?" Fred questioned. "Annie, where are your morals!"_

"_Ice cream is a lunch time food! Cake is for dinner!" George admonished. _

"Why does all the fun have to be spoiled?" she whispered, turning away from the shop. She contemplated Apperating again, then thought better of it. After all, she wasn't one to run away.

**. . .**

George stared at the now empty spot that Annabelle had just vacated. He simply stood and stared. He couldn't quite decide what to feel at that very moment. Should it be hurt that she'd called him a recluse? Or perhaps angry that she'd started the argument?

He winced. He couldn't go thinking like that. There was no possible way he could convince himself that Annie had started the fight. But he hadn't really meant what he said. Or, more aptly, he hadn't really meant to say what he did. The fact was, he had meant it, and that was why she'd taken off. Those thoughts had been stewing in the back of his mind ever since she left to travel the world, and though in light of recent events he'd mostly forgotten, he still hadn't been able to fully rid himself of them.

So the biggest question was: Was she to blame? Was it really her fault?

His answer had always been a little misguided. Yes. It was her fault, and he may always answer like that. But that was only because he'd had one good piece of Fred left in the world and she'd turned around and left him, too. It didn't matter one bit now, though, because now it was _his_ fault. Now _he _was the one who'd pushed her away.

But if he really did think about it, logically and thoroughly, it didn't matter who held the blame, or who started it. It all boiled down to the fact that he loved her, and he was damn sure she felt the same. Well, she _did_. He wasn't so certain now. If he was going to let her know that he didn't hate her, that he never meant to hurt her, he would need help.

Before he realized what he was doing, he made a move to ask nothing less than his twin for help, which only served to send him into a deeper rage.

_Forget that_, he told himself. _Get Annie. She _can_ come back_.

After running through his list of options, he settled on the one that would be closest and least likely to hurt him when he explained what had happened. With a turn of his heel, he was gone.

**. . .**

Ron grunted awake to the sound of urgent banging at his door. Auror instincts kicking in, he rolled off the couch, grabbed his wand, and threw open the door. "What is it?" he shouted, eyes wild with confusion and paranoia and hair a complete mess.

George stared at his brother in shock for a moment before collecting himself. "Blimey, mate, I didn't know you were sleeping."

"What's the danger?" Ron asked, looking about with a bit more calm.

"No danger. Unless you count me being _in danger_ of becoming single very soon." George said grumpily, pushing past his brother to enter the apartment.

Ron took a moment to process this. "_What_?" he exclaimed, whirling around. "What did you do? One too many jokes? I always knew that'd be the end of you."

"Funny. No, this time, I wasn't joking."

"Ah. Never did like it when you were serious." he said, closing the door behind him. "Always made me feel like it was the end of the world. What happened?"

George sighed and turned to his youngest brother in distress. "When she left, everyone hated it. Maybe we didn't hate her specifically, but I know, everyone was thinking that it was wrong of her to do that. She didn't even help rebuild. She just walked away."

"I remember talking to Hermione about it once," Ron said carefully as they moved into the sitting room.

"And she brought up the fact that no one invited her to Harry and Gin's wedding, so that got me thinking about all that stuff from two years ago, and then it all just started coming out, just everything, and now she's gone!"

Ron stared thoughtfully at his brother for a few moments, choosing his words carefully. "You love her, yeah?"

"Of course I do."

"And you want her to be happy, right?"

"That's all I want."

"Then why the bloody hell did you tell her all that?" he exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to! It just sort of happened!" George shot back. "And I – Well, I quite honestly don't know what to do."

Ron sighed and sat on the sofa, inviting his brother to sit in the armchair across from him. "Look, George, I don't pretend to be an expert on pleasing women. Merlin knows Hermione wanted to poke my eye out with a quill most days at school. But I am pretty proud to say that I've learned a thing or two from that experience, and that's to keep my mouth shut, and give as many compliments as I can."

"So what do _I_ do?" the older Weasley asked. "I've already mucked up."

"Another thing I learned was to give people space when they were angry." Ron continued patiently. "Give her some room. Knowing Annie, she'll forgive you and come back. If you're still worried, you can send her a message of some sort to let her know you're sorry. You two were always good at talking without speaking, anyway."

George sighed and nodded. "Thanks, Ron. Bloody hell, I never thought I'd be turning to _you_ for advice."

"If you leave now, I'll pretend that was a compliment." he said flatly.

"I'll let you know what happens." George said as he walked out the door.


	13. AN

**Author's Note**

**If you haven't noticed, this story and others are being put **

**on hold right now. I apologize for that, but fanfiction will**

**always come second to an original story, especially if it's going**

**to be published. I know nobody on this site likes waiting around**

**for an update (I'm one of those people), but I'm close to getting a book**

**the way I want it. If you like my writing, and want to see something original,**

**I have a deviantart account, username InsideRainyDay, where original **

**works are posted. Again, I apologize for the delays, but it's necessary for**

**the greater good ;). Love you all, and thanks for favoriting/reviewing.**

**~Lina Cross**


	14. Chapter 13

Annabelle appeared back in the apartment, but it was empty. "George?" she called. No answer. _Oh, good. Perhaps he hasn't come home yet._ She looked in his room, but he wasn't there. He wasn't in his office, either, and she had just walked back into the sitting room when she heard a crack behind her. She was startled, and whirled around to see a familiar red-head looking at her with a stunned expression. "George." she said quietly.

"Annie? You're back?"

"At the moment." she said evasively.

He frowned. "You're... erm, you're not staying, then?"

"That depends, doesn't it?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "Will you continue making an arse of yourself? If that's how you've been thinking since I arrived, why in Merlin's name didn't you kick me out sooner? You could have done it any time. I certainly didn't _have_ to help you, you know. I didn't need that. I could have found a job, or gone back to traveling. So why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I hated you." he responded quietly and honestly. "I was angry, yes, but it took a little while for me to realize it wasn't directed at you."

"Right, yeah. So that's what that was earlier? You not directing you anger at me?"

"No! I – Urgh, Annie, I don't want to fight with you!" He put his hands to his face as he tried to fight his frustration. "Annie, I _love_ you. I _love_ you! Do you want me to say it again? I love you. Louder? I LOVE YOU! I can spell it for you! I L-O-V-E you, and only you, Annabelle! Please, don't make me get down on my knees, because you know full well I will."

She blinked in surprise, color rising to her face as well as tears. "No, no. Don't do that." she said quietly. "George, I'm so sorry. I just... I know you love me. I love you back. I shouldn't have taken off like that and I-"

"Shh," He placed a finger on her lips, surprising her so much her tears instantly stopped. "It doesn't matter anymore." he said. "You're here now, so I don't care if you were gone before."

She looked into his eyes, saw he was sincere, and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry I called you a recluse."

"I'm sorry I called you a hypocrite."

"Are we done with this now?"

"I believe so."

"Oh, good." she sighed, wiping her cheeks. "That was just a tad on the dramatic side."

"Yeah, let's not do that again." he agreed solemnly.

"At least we don't have anything else to hide." she offered.

"Right. Rule one. Abide by it at all costs." he said fiercely. "Come on, let's get some ice cream."

**. . .**

Annabelle was startled out of her reading by a heavy _bang_ from down in George's office.

"No, _no_! What the hell are you doing! No, _stop that_!"

"George?" she called, standing at the top of the stairs. She winced as another bump was heard.

"No, you miserable piece of... ughhhh."

"George?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you alright?"

_Bang!_ She could smell smoke. "Fine, Annie. Just fine. Ow! _Stop that_!"

"Should I come down there?"

"NO! I mean – ahem – no need. I'm fine. Carry on."

"Erm... okay. I'll make lunch."

"That would be lovely."

Hesitantly, she stepped away from the door, only to wince as more shouts and bangs were heard. She prepared a lunch of cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup, and when she was done and putting it on the table, George finally emerged from his office. "Smells good, Annie." He looked at her. "What?"

Her hands were over her mouth as she stared at him in shock. "Y-you're covered in soot! And your eyebrows are missing!"

"Oh, are they?" he said bemusedly, reaching up a hand to feel. "Huh. So they are. Hm, seems my hair's a bit singed, too. Ah, well. Needed a cut anyway."

"What were you doing?" she asked.

"You'll find out on Sunday." he said.

"Is this Ron's surprise?" she asked.

"Um, yes and no." he said, sitting down at the table and taking a bite of sandwich. "You'll see."

She sat down across from him, shaking her head. "Whatever. So long as you don't kill yourself before then, I'll be fine."

**. . .**

**Sorry for the delay, love you all, etc., etc.**

** Happy Thanksgiving for all my American fans!**

** Anybody else, go ahead and be thankful, too!**


	15. Chapter 14

"Annabelle!" George sang, looking around. "Wherefore art thou, Annabelle?"

"I'm right here." she said, putting her other earring on as she emerged from her room. "What's the problem?"

"No problem. I was wondering if you were ready to go." he said.

"Of course I'm ready. I finally get to see your big surprise." she told him. "Shall we head off, then?"

"Certainly, my lady." He held out his arm so she could take it, then they Apperated to the Burrow.

The atmosphere was already full of laughter when they arrived. Ginny came to meet them, her belly curving out before her. "So you made up!" she exclaimed, hugging them both. "Knew you would. Did you kick him for me?"

"Kick me?" George asked, looking wounded. "You were going to kick me?"

"It was Ginny's idea." she said, holding her hands up as though passing on the blame.

"Oh, ickle Ginnikins was it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Remind me to hex you later."

"Dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley called. Everyone flocked to the table, sitting and talking amiably with each other.

"Annie, _where_ did you get zat pie recipe you brought last time?" Fleur asked. "Eet was incredible."

"Oh, it was just an old recipe I found while traveling." she said. "The secret is to put brown sugar under the crust. I'd never thought about that before."

"Well, whatever eet ees, I would like to know eet." she said.

Suddenly, Hermione shrieked down at her end of the table. "What is that?" she exclaimed, pointing at the wall behind Ron. Everyone looked to see that a flock of some glowing insect was arranging itself to spell out two bright words.

_Marry me?_

Annie heard a clink next to her and looked over to see George sliding a jar into his pocket. She gave him a look, but he put a finger to his lips and pointed at Hermione. The table had gone silent now, watching her reaction. She stared at the wall for a moment in shock, then, slowly, she nodded her head. Ron let out a relieved puff of air, smiling hugely as the family cheered.

"So this was your big secret?" Annabelle asked as she clapped. "This was what all the swearing was about? These little bugs?"

"They're not actual bugs." George said as one alighted on his finger. "Mum would have had a fit. No, they're made of this really flexible material that doesn't melt under high temperatures. See?" He squeezed it gently and she could see the surface give way under the pressure. "Don't have any idea what to call it, though."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something, you inventive thing, you." she assured him.

"Oh, no. There she goes." he sighed, watching his mother burst into tears bemusedly. "That was quick, hasn't even been thirty seconds."

"You're so mean to your mum." Annabelle scolded. "Why don't you get her a tissue?"

"Why don't _you_ get her a tissue?"

"Urgh, you're so terrible." she laughed, getting up so she could hand Mrs. Weasley a handkerchief.

"Call me what you will, I still got ickle Ronnikins to propose seven years early." he called after her.

"Still terrible."

He smiled at his girlfriend, turning a ring over in his hand while she talked with the others. When was the right time? Would he lose her if he asked too early? This felt right to him. Like this was truly meant to be. But would she feel the same?

_Of course she will. She wouldn't have done all this if she didn't._

This thought served to abate his fears, at least for now, so he allowed himself to go back and join the party.

"Thanks, George." Ron muttered once he'd broken free of Molly's embrace. "I owe you one."

"You owe me a lot more than one. That sort of thing's not free, you know." he replied seriously.

Ron paled, and George broke into a grin. "Kidding. Congratulations. But, honestly, I _did_ tell you she'd say yes, didn't I?"

"I know. But it's nice to get confirmation." He glanced back at Annabelle, then nudged his older brother. "So, what now?"

"What do you mean, 'what now'? You'll get married, be prosperous, have tons of fat children. I wish you luck."

"And what about Annie?"

George shook his head, shrugging. "What about her?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "George..."

"Oh, will you hush? I'm working on it."

He grinned. "Good."

"George!" Annabelle called, making her way over to her boyfriend. "George, come _here_ and hug your mum! Look at her, she's all weepy!"

"Why don't _you_ go hug her?"

"Why am _I_ taking care of _your_ mum? C'mere, you git!" She pushed him towards Molly, essentially choreographing the manner in which he embraced his mother. When she was satisfied, she took him by the arm, congratulated Hermione and Ron once again, then pulled him out the door. She was heading down the front walk and preparing to Apperate when George called her back.

"And just where do you think _you're_ going?"

She turned, confused. "Home?"

He was smirking at her on the porch. "You _did_ notice the Christmas decorations, did you not?"

"Oh, I – Yes, I know, I'm sorry." She put a hand to her head, blushing fiercely. "I was going to put some up in the flat, you see, and I went to find yours, but then there was this alarm thing that kept going off, and I found your _Monster Book of Monsters_, and it all just sort of went downhill from there." He had been strolling up to her throughout the duration of her speech, and she took this moment to smile sheepishly at him. "I _did_ get you a present, though."

"Annie," he began. "I wasn't talking about our decorations."

She blinked in surprise. "Oh? What were you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and pointed at the front porch. There, she noticed a bunch of green leaves and white berries hanging up by the stairs. She turned red. "Oh... _Oh_, I completely missed that! How could I-" Her words were cut off by George meeting her lips in a sweet, loving kiss. Her arms found their way around his neck as his hands encircled her waist.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured quietly.

"Oh, I – Yes, and Merry Christmas to you, too."


End file.
